


Kiss Me In The D-A-R-K

by dontkissthewriter



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Angry Aaron Hotchner, Angry Kissing, Angry Sex, Babysitting, Birthday Sex, Birthday Smut, Biting, Blow Jobs, Choking, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Drinking, F/M, Hair-pulling, Name-Calling, Older Man/Younger Woman, Possessive Aaron Hotchner, Rough Sex, Roughness, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, babysitter reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24494518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontkissthewriter/pseuds/dontkissthewriter
Summary: All you are is a babysitter trying not to hit on your boss. And all Aaron Hotchner is is really really attractive. He doesn't like it when you start to distance yourself from him.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader, David Rossi & Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 400





	1. Chapter 1

_**Got held up. Can you stay another hour or so? I’ll compensate for the overtime.** _

Who was surprised? Certainly not me. 

_**I’ll be here until you get back. Jack’s already asleep, but I’ll get started on kicking out all the frat boys and hookers.** _

Got held up, stuck in a meeting, flight landed late. Whatever excuse there was, Aaron Hotchner had used it. I didn’t berate him his job; I knew that it was difficult for him. If anything, I should be thanking him. I never walked away from a babysitting session without more money than originally promised. 

**_That would be ideal, thank you._ **

“Seriously?” I muttered. Not even an ‘lol’. It had taken me months to work up the courage to start joking around with him, but once I started, I realized it was useless. He never reacted to any of my quips, barely even smiled at me. The only time I was certain the guy wasn’t a robot was when he got home and saw his son. 

Jack was asleep, that part wasn’t a joke. The kid was adorable. He tried staying awake for his dad every night, but on the later ones always ended up passing out. It was already nearly ten, two hours past his regular bedtime. On weekends it was nine, but no later or he would never go to bed on time, Aaron was very strict about that. 

It was nice, babysitting for him. Jack was the sweetest kid I had ever watched, and all the extra hours just gave me more time to do homework, catch up on my shows, or clean up around the house if I got especially bored. It wasn’t part of my usual job, but leftover instinct from when I worked as a full-time nanny over the summers in high school. Aaron wasn’t one to complain, anyways. What full time working, single dad complained about not having to do dishes, or vacuum, or organize the bookshelves? 

Maybe it helped that Aaron was one of the most attractive fathers I had ever worked for—while magically not being a pervert. 

(Even though I totally wouldn’t mind if there was a _little_ perverseness.)

When he came in, I was on the floor in front of the couch, flipping through my newest read. I looked up and grinned while he shut the door behind him, setting his briefcase on the floor under the hall table. 

“Hey, Aaron. Long day?”

“When is it not?” He walked behind the couch, going to check on Jack in his bedroom. The door nicked shut quietly when he retreated, satisfied that his son wasn’t in any immediate danger. His jacket was thrown over a chair, gun hid away into a drawer. 

I got up and started putting my things into my backpack. “Jack was amazing, as usual. He helped me make a pizza—leftovers are in the fridge—and then we just watched TV and hung out until he got tired.” I walked around the couch to lean against the wall, hands in my back pockets, eyes on him. I knew what he wanted to hear when he got home. “He tried staying up, but he passed out after Wreck-It Ralph. Homework’s all done, I put away the dishes, and there’s only one dead prostitute, but I hid her in the guest bathroom, so don’t worry about the mess.”

“Thanks, Y/N. Your money’s in the bowl by the door. How’s the calculus?”

Nothing! Not even a chuckle! Rolling my eyes, I pushed off the wall and went to grab my money, tucking it into my pocket. “Kicking my ass. It’s not too late for you to hire me full time and let me drop out of college,” I joked. It was a frequent joke between us. Or, between me, that he sometimes cracked a smile at.

Why was I only attracted to guys who seemed to have no emotions? Why was it so hot that he didn’t seem to give a shit about me? 

Aaron reached into his inside pocket of the jacket on the chair, pulling out his wallet. “Here’s some extra. Thanks for staying late.” 

“Aaron, I don’t need it, seriously.” I waved him off, shoving my feet into my shoes. I already got a baseline of fifty dollars a night, which was more than I had ever been paid by my old jobs. Add to that the extra cash he gave me when I worked past the set hours, and I had enough to keep me well funded and comfortable for a college student. 

He ignored my, folding the twenty and tucking it in the front pocket of my bag. “Seriously. It’s the least I can do, honestly.” 

How could anyone not be drawn to a man like this? 

I threw my bag over my shoulder and leaned on the doorknob, smiling at him one last time. “Have a good night, Aaron.” 

“You, too. I’ll see you next week?”

“Sure will.”

I didn’t really mind that the only smile I got was a brief, barely there one. It was typical. And still attractive—I counted it as a win.

About two weeks later, I was babysitting Jack again, this time in the afternoon. When Aaron texted me, it wasn’t to ask if I could stay another hour, this time. 

_**Can you drop Jack off at David’s? He’s hosting a party.** _

I knew David Rossi from a few small meetings. He showed up with Aaron sometimes, either to pick up something, have a drink, or go over a case. He was a kind man, always greeted me with a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. We would joke around a bit while Aaron got settled in, then I’d say goodbye and take off. 

_**Sure! What’s the addy?** _

He sent the address quickly, then added, _**You can grab your money while you’re there, this should be it for the night.** _

_**You’re the boss. I’ll get him ready and text you when we’re leaving.** _

_**Thank you.** _

Jack was excited to see his dad and the rest of his team, so it was easy to get him into fresh clothes and in the car. The whole ride there, he wouldn’t stop bouncing in his seat and asking who all was going to be there. I must have told him that I didn’t know about a thousand times. 

I should have expected it, just from the general way he acted and dressed and talked, but David Rossi’s house was huge. Like, mansion style huge. I whistled lowly, pulling up to the curb. The street was already clogged with cars. Should have also expected that when he partied, he partied hard. 

“Alrighty, kiddo. You ready to see dad?”

“Yes, yes!” He clapped his hands, already trying to scramble out of the car. 

I held his hand while we walked up the steps, more so to keep him from running up ahead and busting his head on the steps than for anything else. By the time I approached the door, he was nearly jumping out of his own skin with excitement. Behind the mahogany, there was the faint sounds of laughter, music, chatter. 

I didn’t recognize the man who answered. He was tall, though, with curly hair and a dorky purple scarf. He looked at me first, then his eyes dropped to Jack. He immediately lit up, dropping down to one knee and embracing him. “Jack, hey! What’re you doing here, buddy?”

“Uncle Spencer!” Jack threw his arms around the man, hugging him tightly. It was cute. 

Spencer lifted him up, eyes falling back on me. “I’m sorry, you must be Jack’s babysitter, right? Y/N? Hotch said you were stopping by. Here, uh, come on in, he’ll want to say hi.”

“Oh, no, I think he just wanted me to drop—”

“Y/N!” 

Behind Spencer, I heard David’s voice booming through the doorway. The man appeared a second later, elbowing him out of the way so he could drag me inside. I stumbled over the edge, looking around the room nervously. It wasn’t as full as I imagined, but it was still full enough that no one really noticed me.

David righted me and pulled me into a tight hug, which I reluctantly returned. “How’ve you been, kid? Come in, come in, we have wine.”

“No, really, I should just—”

Once again, I was cut off. “Oh, at least have some crackers.” The smell of his breath wafted over, and I realized that this man had been hitting the drinks hard. He hooked our elbows and began guiding me into his home, navigating between the strangers. They were, I noticed, dressed much more formally than I was. I tried not to make too much eye contact. “You know, I feel like we never see each other, why is that?”

“I don’t work for you, for starters,” I answered absentmindedly while looking around. Jack ran past us, tugging Spencer by his hand. They both disappeared down a hall. 

“Ah, well. _Sequitur_.”

“What?” I looked back at him, sure I had missed some inside joke.

“It goes on,” he clarified. “Latin. I studied Latin, you know, very briefly, in order to impress this _incredibly_ attractive waitress at my favorite diner. It turns out she was actually Greek, and she stole my watch.”

“Was it a good watch?”

He led us into his kitchen, positioning me in front of the counter covered in various snacks. Crackers, cheese cubes, sliced meat, grapes, bottles of wine and champagne, and mini cupcakes. I didn’t know the occasion for the party, but it seemed fun. 

“Not one of my best. I didn’t mind much, I just wish she had asked first, I would have showed her where I keep my expensive ones.” He grabbed a small, shallow bowl and started filling it with the tiny appetizers, looking at me to nod or shake my head before adding something.

“Why on earth would you do that?” I turned my back on the party. Leaning on the counter, I could stare out the window above his oven and pretend like I wasn’t wearing jeans to a celebration filled with suit jackets and dresses.

“If you’re going to steal from me, you can at least do it with taste.” David sounded offended that his Greek waitress didn’t steal a Rolex.

“I’ll keep that in mind while I ransack the place later.” I popped a cube of cheese into my mouth, grinning at him.

He smiled back, spreading some sort of cheese paste on his cracker.

I rolled a grape around my hand, using the reflection in the window to watch the people milling around behind us. I was, besides Jack, probably the youngest one in the mansion. It did not help my nerves. “So, uh, what’s the occasion, anyways? I don’t wanna be the intruder on anyone’s day.”

David gave me a funny look. He was refilling his wine glass, but he stopped. “Hotch didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“It’s his birthday. The big four-two.”

I blanched. I wasn’t really close enough to the guy to be crashing his birthday party—especially not one with all his coworkers present. Instinctively, I reached out and whapped Rossi on the chest, pushing myself off the counter. “Are you kidding me?” I hissed. “I’m his babysitter, he doesn’t want me at his birthday!” As if someone were going to pull a gun on me, I half ducked behind the counter, scanning the crowd.

He made a dismissive noise. “Oh, he won’t care. He thinks you’re funny.”

That got my attention. “He does not!”

“He does too!” Rossi mimicked my tone before snickering into his wine glass. “He shows us your texts sometimes. The whole team knows about you. You were basically a godsend, because he couldn’t find anyone with experience who could match his schedule. Plus, you’re great with Jack, _and_ you do the dishes, _and_ you clean the house, and yadda, yadda, yadda.”

A hot blush started creeping up my neck. “He tells you guys all that?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His attention drifted, rerouting his mind to start plucking out the cheese cubes from his dish and put them in mine. “Trust me, he likes you. He won’t mind that you’re here.”

“How can he tell you guys that I’m funny, but not even tell me?” I demanded. That wasn’t fair!

He shrugged. “Have to keep you humble, I suppose.” Out of nowhere, he locked elbows with me and started leading me through his house. “Before you start protesting, let me remind you that this is _my_ home, and I want you to be here. I have a feeling you’re more fun than half these people anyways. Come, come, allow me to introduce you to some friends of mine.”

None of my many whines could stop him. He dragged me around the party, drew me into conversations with everyone _but_ Aaron. I saw him very briefly, when we passed by a room on our way to the sitting room. He was in there with Jack on his leg, talking in a small group of people. He was wearing his usual outfit, but his jacket was gone. Button-down of the day was a light blue that looked delicious on him, even though I only saw him in passing.

In between Rossi gracing various clumps of people with his insight—Drunk Rossi was a lot funnier than Sober Rossi—we stood to the side and talked about the guests. He told me which ones he liked and didn’t, and I told him who was wearing the most outdated outfits. I learned more about what he did in the FBI, and immediately tried my hand at profiling people in the room. He would gently correct me or give me a sage, dramatic nod when I got something right. It was fun, hanging out with him. There was an easy give-and-take in our conversation.

I started paying more attention when he called over two women. “JJ, Emily, this is Jack’s babysitter—”

“Y/N!” The blonde one interrupted. She switched her glass of champagne over to shake my hand, grinning. “Oh, my god, we’ve heard all about you! I’m JJ, I work with Hotch. I’ve been begging him to let me borrow you for months.”

When my mouth popped open, confused, she waved a hand and quickly said, “I mean, as a babysitter. I have a son of my own, and according to Hotch, you’re basically perfect. It’s hard finding someone who can work with our schedules. How do you do it?”

I exchanged an amused look with the dark-haired woman, who must have been Emily. She gave me a look, like, _Oh, go ahead, amuse her._

“Uh, well, most of my classes are online. That helps a lot, obviously. I don’t really know. I just… I just make it work. The money helps motivate me; I won’t lie to you.”

She laughed, sending a strong whiff of alcohol my way. That solved _that_ mystery.

Emily patted her on her arm. “And I’m Emily,” she said, shaking my hand. “Don’t worry about her, she’s just excited to meet the elusive sitter we’ve heard so much about.”

They were both dressed up, and I wasn’t wearing matching socks. I couldn’t decide if it was humiliating or hilarious. “You know, apparently everyone knows I’m the best already. I think I like your guys’ version of me better than my own.”

JJ started talking about something, but my attention was caught over her shoulder. It was Aaron, walking through. Jack was no longer with him, and his tie was gone, the top button of his shirt undone. I watched his path slowly, tracking the way he stopped to say hello to someone very briefly before moving on. My eyes snagged on his shoulders, broad and strong and perfectly big enough for me to latch onto, dig my nails into, bite—

“Right, Y/N?”

“Hm?” I looked away to stare blankly at David. He had asked me something. What did he ask me? I willed my face not to blush, not to give away what I had been thinking of.

If he noticed, he didn’t let on. “You see? She’s so bored the poor thing can’t even focus. Now, if you’ll excuse us…” He used my confusion to escape the pair. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said in an undertone, “I love them to death. I just can’t stand listening to them talk about Sarah Lee’s haircut again.”

“Who’s Sarah Lee?”

“A lady in a different department who they _do not_ like. You can’t put the three of them near each other without some catty behavior breaking out. I think it’s unhealthy, honestly.” His wine glass was empty. He abandoned it on a nearby shelf and kept going. “Some fresh air, methinks, would be helpful. You haven’t seen my backyard yet, have you?”

“No, can’t say I have.”

“Have you ever seen the garden of Eden?”

I snorted. “Not that, either.”

“Well, prepare yourself, because you’re about to see both at the same time.”

“Consider me prepared.”

He led me through three different rooms and down a short flight of stairs before I saw the backyard. It was a magnificent as he said—a wide, open space with lush green grass and a large tiled area for people to walk on. There were lanterns strung overhead between the poles erected, soft warm light illuminating the evening. It smelled like honeysuckle and fresh grass. It was quieter, calmer outside.

There was also Aaron. He stood in a group of three, holding a delicate, mostly empty class of wine. He looked up as we stepped down the wooden steps, smile still hung on his face like a work of art. His eyebrows shot up when he saw me, which is when I remembered that he never actually knew I was here.

I winced. For some reason, it felt like I had gotten caught in the act of something. David called out, taking us over to the group. I recognized Aaron and Spencer, but didn’t recognize the third one, a dark-skinned man currently poking at Spencer’s shoulder, obviously teasing him. More coworkers. Another place I didn’t belong.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? I thought you just dropped off Jack.” He broke off from the group to meet us halfway.

I opened my mouth to start explaining myself— _Sorry I’m crashing your fucking birthday party, which is obviously an intimate affair with people you know and like, Aaron, but have I mentioned that I want you to rip my clothes off and throw me on your bed?_ —but David spoke first. “I intercepted her on her way out. She’s my guest, now, Aaron.”

I half smiled and shrugged, like, _What can you do about it?_

Aaron shook his head, holding his hands up defensively. “Hey, I’m not complaining. You know you’re always welcome,” he told me.

“Ah, well. It’s easy to say that when your son made me a friendship bracelet.” I held up my wrist, showcasing the brightly colored strings with the little block letters that had my name.

He laughed—laughed!—before stepping back and gesturing for me to join the little group. “Here, let me introduce you.”

I stepped into the circle, holding my small bowl tightly, and smiled at them.

“This is Derek Morgan, and Dr. Spencer Reid,” Aaron said, gesturing to both of them. He scanned the yard for something while I waved awkwardly.

“Hey,” I said. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you. Again, in your case,” I added to Spencer. “Glad to see you got out of there alive, Jack seemed pretty rabid.”

He wasn’t holding a drink, either, I noticed. His own bowl was filled with grapes and cheese cubes exclusively. “Well, he isn’t that bad. I actually like to hang out with little kids when they can stand me. However, once I started talking about quantum mechanics, he seemed to get out of there pretty quick. Plus, Henry showed up, so they’re having fun away from the adults.” He nodded over my shoulder. When I turned to look, I saw Jack and another little boy running in the grass with a soccer ball, bumping into each other the way little boys do, more waddling than running.

“Aw, they’re cute.” I turned back. “I’m sure your quantum mechanics was very interesting. If it makes you feel better, he once actively hid from me when I started talking about my homework in my History of World Religions class.”

“I forgot, you’re still in college, right?” Derek asked. He was wearing a black shirt under his black jacket, which is boring on most guys but was pulled off flawlessly by the man. If I didn’t want his boss to dick me down, I probably would’ve flirted with him, in another world.

I popped a grape in my mouth and nodded. “I’m a sophomore.”

“What’s your major?” He asked. His shoulders shifted, turning to face me more.

“Human Resources.” I leaned in and dropped my voice. The two unconsciously came in closer as well. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m secretly a huge gossip hog. I figure that’s where you get all the juiciest bits about your coworkers, no?” I winked and shrugged, pulling back.

They laughed at that. Even if I weren’t an adult who drank wine or had a mortgage, I could always be the comic relief.

Aaron threw a hand up and called out, “Garcia!” He beckoned her over, then turned to me and said, “I think you two will get along. Have you met JJ yet?”

“Yeah, actually. She mentioned trying to steal me for her son?” I cocked an eyebrow at him.

He nodded, somewhat sheepishly. “Yeah, she, uh, she’s had her eyes on you. Henry—the one playing with Jack—is her son.”

I glanced over at the boys again, who were now sitting in the grass rolling the ball between them. “Better make sure she doesn’t one-up you, because I am _totally_ in this for the money.”

He laughed—twice in one night!—before stepping aside as a woman in a bright yellow dress approached. “Penelope, this is Y/N, Jack’s babysitter. Y/N, this is Penelope Garcia, our technical analyst.”

“Hi!” She had no drink, which was smart, considering I wouldn’t be able to wear her heels sober with a cane. “I have heard great things.” Her nails were sparkly and bright, and when she went in for a hug, I felt them graze my back. I bet she gave great back scratches. She pulled away but held on so she could examine me.

“I wasn’t actually told I was dropping Jack off for a party,” I admitted. “And David wouldn’t let me leave, so, no judging of the outfit allowed.”

She gasped like I had offended her. “I abhor judging! No, I was just checking out your shoes, which are totally adorable, BTW, has Reid seen them? Reid!”

The man in question had drifted away with Derek, but he looked up when his name was called. He came over.

“Shoes. Look. Adore.” She ordered, pointing down at my feet.

I looked at my converse, which I had to order special off the site. They were Doctor Who themed, with tiny TARDIS’ and sonic screwdrivers patterned over a galaxy background. They were probably the nerdiest thing I owned—and definitely not meant to be seen by anyone else. “Oh, God, thanks. I’m totally in love with your theme,” I said, pointing generally at her whole outfit.

Spencer was already nodding, his fingers doing a weird fluttering motion when he started to speak. “Those are really cool, actually, but I don’t know if I’d be allowed to wear them to work.”

“You wouldn’t,” Hotch tossed in from behind him.

“Ah, well, we try not to wear things we don’t mind getting dirt or mud on. Or blood.”

The group fell semi-silent after that. Like we all had to remember where they worked first.

“Well,” I finally said. “I guess it’s good I don’t have to worry about that, then.” I tipped my bowl towards him in a salute.

“Yeah, good thing,” he laughed. Politely.

It didn’t really _hit_ me until he and Penelope started talking about some other rule they hated in their job—I was the kid in the room. They were only humoring me by talking to me. Penelope’s compliment—complimenting someone was the easiest way to brush them off without being rude! And Aaron— _Hotch_ , to these people—had just tossed me to the nearest person who was the most likely to get along with me. I wasn’t an FBI hotshot. I didn’t have my own apartment, or mortgage, or wine preference. I was a _babysitter_. My head buzzed a bit from the wave of inexplicable sadness I felt at the thought.

I backed up one step. Two. They didn’t notice. Aaron was already immersed in quiet conversation with David. Aaron—I had never seen him so relaxed before. So open and happy and laughing. It wasn’t because of me or my childish jokes. It was because he was hanging out with his friends. Other Adults. The second I showed up, he pushed me onto someone else.

When I turned and walked fully away, no one tried to stop me.

I ended up in the kitchen. I don’t know why I didn’t just get in my car and drive home. Probably because the cheese cubes were so good. Most of the party had left by then, so there wasn’t anyone to notice when I sat down in the space between the counter with the food and the oven with the bowl of cheese cubes in my lap. That was where I stayed for the next ten minutes.

I don’t know why I bothered trying to pretend I could blend in. David was drinking, it was the only reason he made me stick around. I was the youngest person there, the only one with Doctor Who converse and jeans and a fucking friendship bracelet on.

Aaron thought I was just a young college girl. That was obvious. We weren’t friends. He talked about me to his coworkers—so what? It didn’t mean anything. My little crush on him was stupid, irrational. To even think he might ever see me as an equal was a crazy daydream.

I had been trying to act more mature than I was for so long. It was stupid, honestly. I gave up going out with my friends to babysit Jack. Gave up doing dumb college girl stuff I deserved to experience, just for a two-minute talk with a guy twenty years older than me.

Well, no more. I was going to start doing immature sophomore shit right then and there. And in my shoes, what would a college girl do about having to move on from a guy they never had a serious shot with?

Why, make sure he won’t forget you and then ghost his ass, of course.

I got to my feet so fast, I nearly fell over. Abandoning the bowl on the counter, I started off down the halls, determined to find my boss. He wasn’t in the backyard, not in the sitting room, nor the living room.

Finally, I found him in the library, which had turned into a temporary coat room for the night. He was checking his phone when I walked in. Sometime between me walking away and now, he had unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up. This was, for obvious reasons, extremely attractive and distracting. He looked up when I entered, blurting out my name. Maybe he thought I had already gone home. “What are you doing, sticking around?”

Smiling coyly, I shut the door behind me and locked it. The noise it made clicking through the room sounded like an executioner loading his gun. “Uh, I just wanted to say happy birthday. Why didn’t you tell me it was today?”

“To be honest, I don’t really celebrate. I didn’t even know this was going to be a party—I was just supposed to be stopping by for some files.” He half-laughed, eyes carefully watching me as I came closer. He put his phone down. “What are you doing?”

“I didn’t get you a gift. I feel bad.”

Suspicion was slowly starting to seep into his face. He looked like he might have to fight me to get out, with the way he squared his shoulders and straightened out to his full height. I loved how tall he was. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Well, I figured what’s the point in you paying me so much if I didn’t spend it on you?” I was in reaching distance now. It had been a while since I needed to do this. Seduce someone in order for them to let me touch them. With college guys, all you had to do was grab them and drag them into a room, no build-up required. But something told me Aaron liked build-up. Liked _teasing_. I put a hand on his chest, dragging it down until it rested on his belt buckle. “But then it hit me—I totally have the perfect gift already.”

By the time his brain caught up and he realized what I was saying, I was already on my knees, undoing his belt.

He said my name in disbelief, grabbing one of my hands but not the other. “You don’t—you shouldn’t be doing this. I think you need to go home.”

“And leave before giving you your gift? No way.” I rolled my eyes at him, pulling the belt loops out and letting it fall to the floor. “I haven’t been drinking if that’s what you’re worried about. I have to drive later. I’m not a dumbass, Aaron, come on.”

I undid the button and started unzipping him. Going by the quickly growing bulge in his pants, he wanted it, too. And he did nothing to stop me when I started pulling them down until his pants were at his knees. I heard him curse softly over me when I leaned in to mouth at his dick over his underwear, teasing him.

Gasping, I pulled away. “Oops, almost forgot.”

His eyebrows drew together, looking equal parts angry and confused. “What do you—” He stopped talking when I started pulling my hair up into a ponytail.

“Messy,” I said as an excuse.

I hooked my fingers into the elastic of his underwear and started pulling those down, as well. His hands stopped me—grabbing both hands this time.

“You shouldn’t do this. I—this is a dumb idea.”

I looked at him through my lashes, pouting. The epitome of college girl innocence, the very picture of the daddy-issues riddled woman who wants a good time. He had never seen this side of me before. “Aaron,” I said carefully. “Do you think I would be on my knees in a house that isn’t mine if I didn’t want your cock in my mouth?”

His fingers slackened. I slipped my wrists out before he could reconsider and pulled his underwear out of the way. His dick—comma impressive—was fully erect, with a drop of precum already at the top. I wrapped my hand around the base and looked up at him one last time.

I wanted him to be watching when I got him off in the library of his coworker, on his birthday.

I started by licking a long strip up from the base of him to the very top. My tongue flicked out to catch the precum at the top. Carefully, I put my mouth on the tip of him, gaging his reaction. I could feel his thighs tense when my tongue started swirling around his head, and when I pumped what wasn’t in my mouth with my fingers, he groaned from low in his throat. One of his hands clutched the edge of the desk he leaned against, while the other hovered over my hair like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch me.

I didn’t like that. I wanted him to feel so out of control, he couldn’t _stop_ himself from touching me. So I took in a few more inches, moaning around his cock. Truthfully, I just wanted to deepthroat him already, feel him fucking my throat. But I didn’t want to do that until he was openly into it.

“Fuck, that feels— _so_ good.” Aaron let out a shaky breath. I felt him grab my ponytail, wrapping it around his hand.

The exact moment the dynamic shifted was palpable—his grip tightened suddenly, and he pulled my head off him to stare at me. He was flushed, eyes filled with lust. “You can do better than that, little girl.”

That shouldn’t have made my thighs clench the way they did. I licked my lips, about to talk, but then he was shoving my head back down, and I had to drop my jaw to get his cock back in my mouth in time.

“You’re going to suck this dick,” he ordered, moving my head up and down my length. Drool came out of my mouth to wet my passage, but I still whimpered when I felt his tip bump the back of my throat. “Just like you’re meant to. Such a smart mouth, but what are you using it for?”

I gripped his thighs, digging my nails in to steady myself. Tears pricked the back of my eyes. The lack of oxygen from him holding me there mixed with the pain of my jaw being forced open so wide.

Instead of allowing me to take a breath, Aaron pushed my head down further. His cock slipped into my throat. I didn’t gag—score—but I did moan around his length. A few tears slipping down my cheeks. “I always fucking knew you weren’t so innocent. Knew you were hiding it from me.” He sounded mad. Sounded pissed, actually, even though I couldn’t fathom why, considering he was getting his dick sucked on his birthday by a willing college girl. “Did you want this the whole time? Want to choke on my cock every time you saw me?”

I nodded the best I could, looking up at him. My face must have been turning a whole new shade of red previously undiscovered to man.

His head fell back, and he _moaned_. Good God, that was hot. My core was on fire, begging for something to fill it. I had half a mind to stick my hand down my pants, but I wanted to focus on Aaron right now. Wanted to make him feel good.

“This is where you belong,” he told me. “On your knees, with my fat cock in your mouth. I bet you want me to stuff you full with my cum, don’t you?”

I whimpered again. Short puffs of air through my nose were all I could manage. My nails dug into his skin, leaving little red marks behind. I bobbed my head, moving his dick down my throat before almost pulling off. I sucked on his tip, pulling my cheeks in. In this position, I could refill my lungs, which were burning from their emptiness.

His hand in my hair tightened, almost painfully. He held my head in place and started moving his hips. Aaron Hotchner was fucking my mouth—my throat, to be more accurate.

My eyes rolled back partially when he breached my throat again. He slid painfully slowly in and out, until my nose grazed the skin at the base of his dick. It hurt in the most delicious way. My thighs rubbed together—I could feel my panties dampening. No doubt, when I got home, I would need to spend some quality time with my vibrator.

“God, I love your tight fucking throat. I wonder if your cunt feels this good, after you wasted all your time spreading your legs for those college boys,” he panted. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. From the shaking in his thighs, he must have been ready to come soon. I doubled my efforts, tracing the vein I felt on the underside of his dick with my tongue.

I could tell when he was about to finish—he yanked my head away and wrapped his hand around his dick, pumping it furiously.

When he spoke, it sounded like he had to force every word out through gritted teeth. “You’re going to swallow every last drop I give you—and if you don’t— _fuck_ —I’m going to bend you over the desk and make sure you can’t sit down for a _fucking week_.”

The hand holding my hair pulled, so my neck was craned. Instinctively, I opened my mouth, sticking my tongue out. Seconds later, he came, the hot ropes of cum landing in my mouth. I sat there until he was done, making sure my mouth was filled with his release. As instructed, I swallowed, wiping my chin of the spit that fell out when I was done. Even though I didn’t exactly go crazy for the taste of men’s cum, I didn’t mind so much when it came to Aaron. I guess it tastes better when the guy drinks water instead of White Claw.

He groaned. Traced my cheek with the back of his hand. “That’s a good girl,” he breathed.

I was shaking, I realized. I got to my feet, but not before tucking him back into his underwear and fixing his pants. I handed him his belt. _Finish strong_ , I told myself. _Don’t pussy out now._

Aaron reached for me, but I stepped back. I smiled innocently and started to walk away. Before I reached the door, I tossed over my shoulder, “Happy birthday, Mr. Hotchner!”

The second I closed the door behind me, I took off running down the stairs, down the hall, out the front door. I stopped only to grab an unopened bottle of wine off the counter—thank God I didn’t run into anyone—and then rushed out to my car.

I fell into my seat heavily, setting the wine in the passenger seat. I was short of breath. Checking myself out in the rearview mirror, I saw that my face was still red, lips swollen, with my eye makeup running down my cheeks. There was a packet of travel-sized tissues in my glove box I used to clean myself up.

 _Oh, fuck,_ I thought _. How the hell am I gonna babysit Jack now?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Aaron reunite after you get caught making bad decisions.

Pursuing my new goal as an irresponsible sophomore meant both cutting hours babysitting and lengthening the amount of time I spent barhopping and nursing hangovers.

If Aaron noticed that I was avoiding him, he didn’t let on. I went from watching Jack at least four days a week to one. When we were forced to interact, it was kept cold and impersonal on my end. I would give him the rundown and leave. All my jokes stopped, too. The last five texts I sent him were just some variation of “Okay.” Over and over again.

So, my days started quickly blurring together. I drank, I jumped up and down in crowded frat houses to music that shook the floor, I perfected my hangover cure, and I _did not think about Aaron Hotchner._ My shirts got tighter and my shorts got shorter. Sometimes I went home with boys, sometimes not. Finally learned how to shotgun a beer.

I kind of assumed he wanted to let it go just as much as I did. He never brought it up directly, barely even talked to me, but sometimes I saw him looking at me. The same way he did when I was on my knees, in David’s house. It was too easy to imagine him grabbing me, pushing me against the wall, making me scream his name when he looked at me like that. I tried not to look too closely at him.

My friends were ecstatic that I was finally able to hang out with them. They took my mission as a personal challenge to see who could show me the newest things before I “reverted” back into being what they called a stuffy, middle-aged college girl. There was no party left unattended, no bizarre drink combination left undrunk, and no frat boy left un-flirted with.

It worked well, honestly. Aaron Hotchner was becoming a blurry figure in my rearview mirror with every passing day.

Until he wasn’t.

Even though I was only twenty, my friends had already figured out which bars and clubs didn’t card the younger women. It was to one of these that they dragged me to on the first day of spring break.

It was what every club was. An organized disaster. Glitter and platform heels ruled the floor, sticky surfaces and water breaks lived on the high tables and cushioned, and half-circle booths homed guys and girls cuddled together with slick hands.

It was so easy to slip into the mass of grinding, bumping, sliding bodies, let my hand graze the backs of the ones I found cute to signal to my friends who had dibs at which man. We got separated quickly. I saw two of my friends disappear into a dark corner and knew that they were going to be invisible until the very end of the night, when they would show up out of nowhere looking like they had just stepped out of the house.

Being a college girl wearing a dress that skirted the edges of my ass in a club filled with mostly drunk men meant that all I had to do to get a free drink was grab the closest silver fox and flash him a smile. Chosen target of the night: Marcus, who wore an expensive watch and had no hesitations about letting his hand fall right above the curve of my ass when he started to lead me over to the bar. The lights—strobes—danced over the people in the middle of the room, sending reflections of their glittery outfits over the walls. I watched it while trying not to listen too closely to Marcus. If I started listening, then I would start a conversation, and men generally don’t like it when you interrupt their talking at you. I ordered some novelty, fruity sounding drink that was eighty percent alcohol and one hundred percent sweet.

Marcus worked somewhere doing something with someone who obviously paid him very well, going by the cash he slid over the counter to the bartender. His hand found a home on my thigh, and I kept moving closer over my bar seat in hopes that he would take the hint and stop humble bragging. When his thumb started slowly swiping over my thigh, I didn’t stop him. I smiled coyly and flipped my hair and did all the right things, all the carefree, interested things I was supposed to do.

What was Aaron doing tonight? It was late, which meant he was probably heading home to Jack, right now. If he was already asleep, then he would poke his head in long enough to make sure he was okay, and then get started on the dishes. Because there wasn’t anyone around to do the dishes. I hoped he remembered that the vacuum didn’t work unless there was tension in the cord.

“How old are you?” Marcus leaned in, his eyes darting over my face.

I smiled and stayed silent, using my glass to cover my trembling lip. They liked not knowing. Guys like him.

Did he already have a new babysitter? Another college girl who watched him when he wasn’t looking, bit her lip to hide her giddy grin every time she managed to make him smile, rolled the waist of her skirt to make it shorter before he walked in? The image filled me with bitter rage. It wasn’t fair of me to be mad, I knew that, but it wasn’t fair of him to—

To get a new babysitter after I went ghost on him?

I realized that I was letting myself get mad over a hypothetical situation. It was my own fault for crossing that line.

Marcus’ hand tightened. Jolting, I swatted at it, shoving my drink into his hand. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I slurred. “Pardon me, good sir.”

I walked in the general directions of the bathroom long enough for him to look away, then bolted for the door. Fresh air filled my lungs as I desperately gulped it down, shoving my hair out of my face. I would have bent over to stabilize myself on my knees, but then my whole ass out be out. Instead I just found a bus bench near the building and dropped onto it. “Oh, god,” I groaned. My feet were hurting already, my heels pushing uncomfortably against my thighs when I tucked them under me.

The air felt good against my overheated skin. I shouldn’t have picked Marcus. He was too—old. I had rules, now. The rules were supposed to keep me from getting hung up on someone unachievable again. But now, I could see that it was useless. You couldn’t get hung up _again_ when you had never gotten over the first one. Maybe it was my unconscious mind trying to make me feel better. I saw him, saw the way he held himself, knew without knowing that he was an older man. What I _should’ve_ done is walked back in there, forgotten my woes for the night, and go home with a fairly attractive man.

What I did do, however, was bury my head in my hands and scream.

The few people on the street were kind enough to ignore me.

I felt stupid, out in my shiny dress and dramatic eyelashes, about to cry over a guy who didn’t even want me. This was my punishment for getting a _crush_ on my fucking boss.

“Y/N?”

Speak of the handsome motherfucking devil. Ice froze my veins, rendering me unable to look up. This was not happening. This was not _happening_. This stuff only happened in shitty movies, not in real life, not when you were having a breakdown on a bench in the middle of the night. Slowly, I raised my head, barely daring to breathe.

In a car pulled over to the side of the road, there sat Aaron Hotchner, leaning out of his window, looking increasingly concerned.

I couldn’t say anything. Humiliation burned my cheeks. My mouth opened and closed like a dying fish, trying to find some way to talk myself out of this situation.

“Are—are you okay?” He looked down the street to make sure there wasn’t a bus coming before turning back to me. He was still wearing his work outfit.

“What are you doing?” I finally rasped. I got to my feet, stumbling over to his car. It struck me that anyone walking by would think I was propositioning him, but it wasn’t as funny as it normally would be, considering that I had _actually_ done that.

He raised an eyebrow at me, looking me up and down. Instinctively, I pulled on the hem of my dress, but that only made it more obvious how scantily clad I was. “What are _you_ doing?”

“I asked first.” I bounced in place, rubbing my arms to warm up. Looking at him hurt too much, so I looked back at the club, where faint music could still be heard.

“I’m going home. What are you doing?” He repeated, sounding harsher.

I huffed a laugh. Gestured to myself. “Take a guess.”

His eyes hardened. “Have you been drinking?”

Chewing on my lip, I shrugged.

Aaron sighed, looking forward. He ran a hand over his jaw before snapping, “Get in.”

I flinched. “Get—what?”

“Get in. Now.”

“I can’t do that. I—I came with friends. They’ll be worried about me. You’re going home, I don’t want to—”

“You can call them when you get home. Get in the car before I throw you in.” He didn’t bother looking at me when he said it. I could see his knuckles tighten around the wheel and knew, suddenly, that he would absolutely do it.

With a cold pit in my stomach, I walked around the front of the car, dragging my feet. Before grabbing the cold handle, I risked a glance to the club one last time. Hoping that one of my friends would pop out and call me over. But no one came out, and I had no choice but to hike myself into the large van.

He started driving again almost immediately. When he spoke, it was in a carefully controlled tone. “Where does an underage girl get drinks?”

“Drin- _kuh_. Singular. And a bar, usually.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Y/N.” Aaron looked at me for a moment. His eyes were hard, cold. “Is it a fake ID?”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms sullenly. “They don’t card at that club.”

“Not even the bartenders?”

Here, I paused, sucking my cheeks in to avoid answering. “I… was not the one purchasing the drink.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “So, you had someone trying to get you drunk?”

“Oh, for—” I straightened, turning partially to face him better. “I had a _guy_ buy me a _drink_ so we could talk to each other. That’s generally what a girl is looking for when she’s out dressed like this, Aaron.”

“Dressed like a whore, you mean?” Aaron glared at me. He looked like he was resisting the urge to choke me out.

My jaw dropped, a shocked noise escaping before I could stop it. “A—a _whore_? Okay! Okay, Aaron, you go on with your little fucking—I don’t even know—pillar of _morality_ bullshit.” I dropped in my seat, scowling at the windshield. “Not like you don’t fucking like it,” I mumbled.

If he heard me—or cared—he didn’t let on. Every inch of him was filled with tension.

We lapsed into silence, neither wanting to break first. I watched him out of the corner of my eyes. Thinking about what would have happened if I didn’t leave the library that night. Aaron had reached for me. What was he going to do? I indulged my imagination, once. Pictured him pulling me forward and hungrily kissing me, then clearing off the desk and yanking my underwear down. Hopefully while saying something like, “Allow me to return the favor,” before yanking me to the very edge and dropping to his own knees.

It doesn’t do to live in your imagination, though.

It wasn’t too long before he was speaking again. “Were you going to fuck him?”

“Probably. He was older, too, which meant he would’ve made me like it, too,” I snapped. Was I being petty? Probably. Did I care? No.

“You have no right being mad at me,” Aaron said.

“No right? Aaron, I’m sitting in your car after taking two hours to get ready for what ended up being a fifteen-minute outing! I’m pissed right now!”

“Why were you outside in the first place, if you didn’t want to leave?”

“Because I needed some air!”

“Dressed like _that_?”

“Yes, Aaron, I needed some air while dressed _like a fucking whore_. It happens.” My feet were throbbing now. Without thinking, I reached down and tore the heels off, discarding them on the floor.

He took several deep breaths. It seemed like he needed to calm himself down. His knuckles were white against the wheel. “Do you have any idea how stupid and reckless you are, being outside by yourself like that?”

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Y/N!” He abruptly hit the steering wheel, jolting me into clutching the sides of my seat. “What if it hadn’t been me pulling over? What if it had been a stranger offering you a ride?”

Groaning, I said, “I’m not fucking twelve, Aaron. I know you. I wouldn’t take a ride from a stranger.”

He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “You don’t know me; you just babysit for me. For all you know, I could be planning on taking advantage of you right on the side of the fucking road.”

“Are—are you mad at me for getting in the car with you? Seriously?” I asked, staring incredulously at him. “Aaron—you made me get in!”

He lifted one hand like he was going to touch me, then put it back down. “I’m mad that you’re acting so childish you’ve apparently abandoned the most basic of self-survival instincts!”

“Childish? I’m acting _childish,_ really?” I was almost yelling now.

“Yes, you are!” He was almost yelling as well, voice bouncing off the windows. I wondered what we looked like to anyone looking in—me in my shiny, lowcut dress, and him in his suit and tie. Father picking up rebellious daughter? “All this—this partying, drinking, wearing shit like that—it’s all fucking childish!”

“Well, you didn’t seem to think I was very childish when you let me suck your dick in that library!”

“No, because I _thought_ you were responsible enough to know what you were getting into,” he said, looking away from the windshield to glare at me.

I was furious now. He was acting so puffed up on his own age, it was—just— _fucking stupid!_

“I only sucked your dick because I wanted to _stop_ being so ‘ _responsible’_ , you dick!” I put quotation marks around the word. My face was hot, hands shaking.

His head snapped to look at me. His eyebrows were so high they threatened to disappear into his hairline. “Excuse me?”

I pulled my lips into my mouth, wincing. He looked infuriated with me. Instead of answering, I just turned to look out the window. We were getting close to my apartment. If I could survive that long, I could go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened. Or break into my roommate’s vodka stash and forget it ever happened. Both seemed like good options.

“Look at me.”

I did not look at him.

“ _Look at me_ ,” he ordered.

I looked at him.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Aaron looked like he might backhand me. I wondered if he could get away with murdering me, what with all his connections in the FBI.

“Nothing.”

“No, it wasn’t nothing. You said you only gave me a blowjob to stop being responsible. Is that true?”

“I mean…” There wasn’t anything I could really say to get me out of this. My apartment building was coming up fast. If I could get through the next thirty seconds, I could get through it all. “Yeah.”

“Why.” It wasn’t a question.

Shrugging, I scratched my neck, eyes darting around the car. “You know. Just. Wanted to do something impulsive. Stupid. So, it was either you or Spencer, and I found you first.” All of it was the truth, except for the last part. He was only ever going to be the one I kicked off my crusade with. But I didn’t want to seem totally desperate, so I slipped Spencer into it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.

We were in front of my apartment now. I waited for him to say something, but he was looking directly out the windshield, body frozen.

“Get out.”

I blinked. I expected yelling, more arguments, not _this_. “What?”

“Get. The _fuck_. Out. Before I put you in the fucking backseat and get the cops called on us.”

Unintentionally, my thighs clenched. Damn my daddy issues. “Aaron, I—”

He cut me off by lunging across the seats and grabbing me by the neck, pulling me in to kiss me. If he was a shark, then I was just chum in the water, unable to move or breathe or do anything but let it happen, open my mouth, wrap my hands around his head and feel his hair shift between my fingers. He was lightly squeezing my throat—enough to make it threatening, not enough to be worried. The kiss wasn’t one born out of passion, but one born out of anger, and it showed in the way he bit at my lips when I didn’t immediately part them for his tongue.

I whimpered, body melting into his. He pulled me closer—pulled me almost half on top of him. One of his hands left my neck and fell on my ass, supporting me. When his fingers brushed the edges of my strappy underwear on my hips, he grabbed a handful of ass and squeezed. I yelped into his mouth, pulling away briefly.

Like it was a rock shattering the glass moment, he threw me off him. I caught myself before I could smack my head on the door. “Dude, what the—”

He reached over me and opened the door. “Get out.”

“Seriou—”

“Yes.” Aaron wasn’t looking at me. He rubbed his jaw, staring out the window on his side.

When it became clear he wasn’t going to talk to me, I huffed and stuffed my feet into my shoes. “Dick,” I hissed before hopping out. Slamming the door felt good, but the satisfaction dissipated by how fast he sped off.

Great. Fucking wonderful.

I thought that was the last I would ever see of him. For the following weeks, it was radio silence. No texts, calls, or arrangements for babysitting. I was officially out of a job. And I couldn’t even distract myself with schoolwork, because it was spring break. Some of my friends took off to Mexico, some of them flew home to their families. Eventually it was just me, laying on my bed, watching the fan spin in a slow circle. On my nightstand, a glass of lemonade was sweating onto the wood. I made a fresh pitcher but couldn’t bring myself to drink any.

“Y/N, you awake?” My roommate, leaning into my doorway.

“Unfortunately.”

“Alright. Well, I’m heading out with Jake and Maria. You wanna join?”

“No, thanks.”

“Okeydokey.” She knocked on my doorframe and left. I heard the door shut moments later.

I spent the afternoon drifting in and out of sleep, pushing my sheets off the bed. The heat snuck in and laid itself over me in a layer of sweat and stickiness. I was about to go sit in a cold bath just for something to do when my phone buzzed. The contact read Aaron Hotchner.

“What the fuck?” I muttered. I unlocked my phone to see the full message.

_**I got called in for an emergency and Jack’s sitter is out of town. Can you fill in?** _

Jack’s babysitter. He had replaced me? Holy shit. I knew logically that he had to have, since he was no longer asking me to do it, but still. Who had he used to fill in my position? Did they know that he liked mushrooms on his pizza? Did they even know how to _make_ homemade pizza?

I shouldn’t say yes. I shouldn’t say yes. I shouldn’t say—

_**Sure! Do I need to come over right now?** _

Great, sure, be a whore, not like I’m trying to forget about him or anything.

_**Yes.**_ _**Thank you.**_

I rolled over into my pillows and screamed.

In less than ten, I was rapping on his door, clutching the straps of my bag so tightly my fingers cramped. I shifted from foot to foot, debating whether or not I could run. Were my shorts too short? My shirt too loose? My hair too tangled? Did my breath stink? Was my mascara clumpy?

To my surprise, it was not Aaron who answered, but Jack, who was already bouncing excitedly. I grinned at him, dropping to his height for a hug. Despite all the awkwardness, I really had missed him. His hands linked behind my neck, high voice right in my ear. “Y/N! Daddy says I’m going to a sleepover today, so I get to have ice cream for dinner!”

I winced, pulling away. “Really, kiddo? That sounds awesome!”

Why did Aaron need me to watch him if Jack was leaving, anyways?

My answer came seconds later, in the form of Mr. Hotchner coming in from down the hall with a tie half slung around his neck. He was clearly in a rush, stuffing things in his briefcase and throwing his jacket over his arm before spotting me. I tensed, almost expecting him to start yelling at me again, but instead he looked deeply relieved. “I’m really sorry about the short notice, I wasn’t supposed to come in tonight, but. Well, you know. Mrs. Spinelli should be coming in about half an hour to pick him up—make sure he’s packed a bag—but you’ll need to wait for me to get back to get paid, I don’t have any cash on me at the moment. You can just watch TV or something while you’re here. Lock the doors, and don’t listen to anything he says about ice cream, because he convinced the other girl that he’s allowed to have it every Wednesday.” He stopped to breathe, looked around to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything, then stooped over to kiss Jack on the forehead. “Love you, buddy. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? Have fun.”

“Bye, dad,” Jack said, hugging him goodbye.

Aaron stood and passed by me. “Thank you for coming in tonight. I should be back… I actually don’t know when. If you get hungry you can raid my fridge.” He stepped out, the door swinging shut behind him.

I stared blankly at the wood for a few seconds before it clicked in my head. Jack would be leaving. I would be staying. Waiting for Aaron to get home.

“Y/N, can we watch The Incredibles?”

Mrs. Spinelli showed up as promised, with two identical children on her legs. They screamed when they saw Jack, and it took a solid five minutes for the two of us to get them calm enough to leave. I passed Jack his backpack—repacked by me, because the only things he put in were video games and pilfered snacks. The four of them left, leaving me.

In the apartment.

Alone.

I blew out a deep breath, looked around me, and got to work.

By the time my phone buzzed with Aaron’s text— _ **On my way back**_ —I had already swept everywhere but his room—which I never stepped foot in—made Jack’s bed, did a load of laundry, vacuumed the carpets, and dusted the shelves. Because a nervous babysitter was a clean babysitter, and it felt wrong to sit there watching TV when there were trashcans to be emptied.

His text only made me more anxious. I spent the next ten minutes in a haze of stress-cleaning and hair fixing, stopping only when I heard his key in the lock.

Was he going to address it? The day after he drove me home, I saw that I had a hand shaped bruise on my ass from how hard he grabbed it. Would he just hand me my money and tell me to leave?

The door opened. He stepped in, placing his briefcase under the hall table. His jacket got draped over a chair, and phone set on the table before he faced me. I was standing, hands laced in front of me.

“Did you clean my house?” His face didn’t give anything away. It was stoic, unmoving, and still _so fucking handsome_. Is this what the people he interrogated saw? The FBI Aaron, not the Dad Aaron who once gave me a box of macaroons his coworker baked

“Yeah. Well, not the entire house. Just the kitchen, bathroom, living room, hallway, dining room, and Jack’s room.” I wanted to grab my money and leave. With all the energy in me, I could probably run home and get there faster than I would in my car.

He nodded, walking into the kitchen. I heard the cupboards open, then the clinking of glasses. He came back out and went straight to the liquor cabinet, pulling a bottle of some brown liquid and pouring himself a glass.

“Um, I kinda need to get—”

“Who’s the last person who fucked you?”

I choked on my tongue, stopping in the middle of my sentence. “I’m sorry, what?”

He repeated himself, slower this time. “ _Who_ was the last person who fucked you?”

“I don’t—Aaron, I don’t think I should—”

“Answer me.” He came closer. His eyes were predatory, fixed on mine. “I won’t ask again.”

My cheeks burned. What was he _doing_? “Uh, some guy I met at a party. Why?”

“Before that? Another party kid?”

“Yes,” I whispered. My hands were shaking. He was so close, now, I could almost feel his body heat.

“All college guys, right? Quick little fucks, don’t know what they’re doing?” He sounded mad. What had I done to piss him off?

I glanced behind him, at the window that showed only the brick building of his neighbor apartments. “I think I should get going.”

“You don’t want to leave,” he told me. “Because I’m going to fuck you tonight. And if you leave, you’ll never know what my cock feels like inside you. And I know that there’s nothing your little pussy wants more than for me to fuck you like you’re a useless whore. Isn’t that right?”

I. Could. Not. Breathe. My heart had stopped fully in my chest. I blinked stupidly at him, lips slightly open. My mouth was dry. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t.

Aaron raised an eyebrow at me. “Isn’t that right? Say it.”

The word fell out before I could consider the consequences. “ _Yes_.”

He looked pleased. He took a small sip of the drink while stepping closer to me. “Good girl. Looks like you aren’t completely stupid, after all.”

My brows furrowed. He wasn’t just being dangerously attractive, he was being _mocking_. He was making fun of me, almost.

His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into his chest. I steadied myself by putting my hands on his chest—which was also a great opportunity to feel up his solid muscles. “Tell me you want me,” he ordered softly. His breath brushed over my face.

“I want you.”

“You need me?”

“I _need_ you,” I said, almost whimpering. I could feel my underwear dampening from the rush of arousal he was sending through me. I wanted to rub my thighs together, but we were pressed so tightly together that he would have felt it.

Aaron hummed thoughtfully. Out of nowhere, he grabbed my arm and yanked me off him, sending me towards the table. While I stumbled to catch my balance, he started speaking again, walking towards me.

“I thought about bringing you into my bedroom, but I don’t think you deserve that. See, I fuck women on my bed. I fuck _whores_ on my table.” He set his glass down, then reached up to loosen his tie. “Isn’t that what you are, Y/N? A whore? I mean, what other kind of girl is so eager to have a dick in their mouth that they’d do it for their _boss_ in _someone else’s house_?”

I gripped the edge of the table behind me. My core was screaming at me to do something, but I was frozen, nerves on lockdown. “Aaron…”

“Don’t speak,” he snapped. “Don’t speak until I say you can. Understood?”

He waited until my nod before continuing. He was unbuttoning his cuffs, now, pushing his sleeves up to reveal his forearms. “I thought, for a bit, that maybe you were still the sweet girl I knew.”

_Sweet girl_. Lord help me.

“But then you said that thing in the car, and I realized I had you all wrong. You want to start acting irresponsible? More your age? Go ahead.” His hand closed around my jaw, puckering my lips and no doubt bruising the skin. He pulled me over to him easily, almost pulling me off my feet entirely. His next words were an angry whisper. “But you aren’t going to treat me like one of your fucking college boys to do it.”

As easily as a rag doll, he threw me away from him. I caught myself on the table, knees weak. I was starting to think I may have gotten myself in deeper than I bargained for.

“Bend over the table.”

I didn’t try to argue—it was instinct to bend to his will. I propped myself up on my elbows, glancing over my shoulder to find him pulling the handcuffs off his belt. Before I had time to ask any questions—not that I was allowed to—he grabbed my arms and pulled them out from under me, allowing my upper body to collapse onto his table.

The handcuffs clicked into place around my wrists.

“I also don’t let whores touch me,” he said casually. His hands were on the buttons on my shorts, undoing them, pulling them down to pool at my feet. “You can speak now.”

I let out a long, shuddering breath. “Aaron, please, I need you so badly,” I begged shamelessly.

His hand ran up and down my back, soothing me. “Oh, poor baby. You’re going to regret saying that when you realize no college boy can fuck you like I can.” He pulled my underwear down, then ran a finger through my slit with no warning. He gathered up my juices on his finger, then held it to my lips. “Look. Can you taste how fucking wet you are? Jesus, you must be desperate. Tell me—and answer honestly—how often have you thought about this?”

I heard his belt buckle being undone, then the leather hitting the floor. He pressed his hips to my ass, pressed his clothed, hard cock against the skin.

“I—I don’t know. A lot,” I admitted. The feeling of his dick so close to me made my mind blank. It was almost impossible to stop my hips from moving back against him.

“A lot? What did you fantasize about?” His zipper went down, I heard the fabric shuffling as he adjusted himself.

I pressed my head against the table, trying to concentrate. “You.” My voice was weak, small. “Fucking me.”

“Where? On the table, like this?” The head of his cock brushed my folds, teasing me, and I tensed.

“Mainly in—in your bed.” My hands were curled into tight fists. I wanted him to _fuck me_ already.

The very tip of him entered. I knew he was big—had choked on the knowledge, if you will—but I never thought I would actually be feeling him slowly breach me, never feel the soft ache of his cock splitting me open. He didn’t go in far. He was still talking. Still expecting me to be able to answer, apparently. “Did I talk to you?” Aaron sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth.

“ _Yes_!” I tried to move my hips, but he held them firmly in place with his hands. “Aaron, _please_!”

“What did I say? Did I call you my whore?” He moved in painfully slowly, hands marking my hips with ten little red imprints.

“Yes! Please, please, I need more—”

“Did I tell you how good your pussy felt, squeezing my cock like this? Tell you this is where you belong, legs spread for _me_ and not some fucking college boy?” 

“Yes, yes, yes!”

In one snap of his hips, Aaron buried his full length in me, stretching my walls apart and making me scream into the wood. One of his hands left my hip to grab my hair, pulling my head up. My back arched to accommodate the pressure. “Don’t be shy, baby, let them all hear you.”

He moved faster inside me, hips slapping against my ass.

“Let everyone know that you’re taking this cock,” he grunted.

“Aaron, please,” I sobbed. My head ached dully from where he was gripping my hair. “Please, please!” It was the only word I could fully remember.

“Please, what?” Aaron slowed, letting me feel the way every inch of him filled me up.

I was borderline incoherent, a sweaty, begging mess. “Harder, fuck, I need more!”

At that, he pulled out entirely and flipped me onto my back. His hand moved up and down my sides, sliding under my shirt. “You want more? This greedy little cunt doesn’t think my cock’s enough?” His thumb slipped down to my folds, touching them with a feather light touch. When he flicked it over my clit and my hips jerked, he laughed at me. “Aw, do you want to cum?” He spoke in a light, mocking voice.

“Yes,” I admitted, voice almost cracking on the word. “Please, I need to cum so bad.”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Pushed the head of his cock inside me again. “I’ve barely even started, though.”

My hands were pinned uncomfortably underneath me. My shirt felt too hot. My legs were sweaty, threatening to drag me off the table if I wiggled too much. But it was all perfect. It was all exactly what I wanted. Letting him take control, order me, be completely submissive to him. “Please, I’ll do anything! God, please, Aaron, fuck, I need your cock so bad!” I hooked my ankles behind his back, wanting to urge him closer, but he didn’t move.

“You are _needy_ bitch, aren’t you?” Aaron didn’t fuck me, but he moved his tip through my pussy, covering it in my juices. Barely entering and then retreating again. “Tell me. I want to know every filthy thought you’ve ever had about me. Maybe then I’ll make you cum.”

I realized his game quickly. The second I started talking, he entered me again, and every time I stopped, he would too. “I—I thought about you showing up at my house. Fucking me on my couch. And eating me out—you using your fingers in me—oh _fuck—_ talking to me, calling me a good girl—” I had to stop to cry out, eyes rolling back when he hit a spot inside me that sent fire shooting through my veins.

“A good girl?” He slammed into me, the table rocking dangerously. “You aren’t a good girl—you’re a filthy—fucking— _slut_!” Each word was punctuated by a thrust, each thrust was punctuated with me wailing out unintelligible, broken syllables.

When his thumb fell to my clit, flicking over it, I fully sobbed. “Fuck, Aaron! It feels so fucking good!”

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he growled. His thrusts sped up, moving my entire body. 

There was a hot ball growing in my stomach. Every time I felt his cock bump my cervix, I came closer and closer to the edge of orgasming. My thighs were tense, shaking. I could barely form functioning sentences at this point, but I still choked out his name while letting my head fall back to hit the table. “I thought—I thought about you choking me, pulling my hair. Making me cum again and again. And, and I thought about you using your belt on me. Tying it around my wrists. Gagging me with it—fuck, fuck, fuck!” My words spun off into high pitched moans.

“Gagging you?” Aaron started rubbing my clit in quick circles, winding up the ball in my stomach until it was a tight mess of barely controlled energy about to burst. “You’re even more fucked up than I thought. There’s nothing you wouldn’t let me do to you, is there?”

“Nothing,” I gasped. My eyelids fluttered helplessly, tears of desperation falling down my cheeks. I’m sure I was bright red, sweaty, all around gross. But that didn’t stop him from ordering me to look at him while I came.

“I want you—to fucking scream my name,” he panted. His thumb was moving faster. My cunt was already tightening around him, squeezing his cock.

When I came, I did exactly that. I cried out his name in one long, broken wail, entire body pulsing off the wood with my ecstasy. I kept my legs around him tight, holding him in place while I came on his cock. He followed shortly after, throwing his head back and moaning—actually _moaning_ —while he filled me up with his release.

It took a minute for me to realize what was happening after he was done. While I lay exhausted on his dining room table, Aaron gently moved my legs off him, then rolled me over so he could unlock the handcuffs. I hadn’t exactly lost feeling in them, but they still stung like a bitch when I brought them around to rub at my wrists.

“Don’t move,” he told me. Not an order but not a request. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a damp rag, which he smoothed over my sensitive—but admittedly messy—folds. I winced away from him, pushing away his wrist as soon as I felt it was clean enough.

“That’s fine,” I said. My voice was hoarse. My legs were cold. Like he could read my mind, he was suddenly grabbing my clothes off the floor, pulling my shorts and underwear up my legs. I covered myself up while Aaron cleaned himself off and tucked himself back into his pants.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just leaned forward and pressed his head to my shoulder. He was still breathing heavily, as was I. I reached up to lace my fingers through his hair, lazily turning the dark strands around and around. “Hey, Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m definitely never gonna be Jack’s babysitter again, am I?”

He huffed a laughed and kissed my shoulder. “No, probably not.”

“Damn.” I tapped his shoulder to get him to move, then hopped off the table. For a moment I wobbled dangerously, but I caught my feet under me. “Well. Do you think you could give JJ my number? She mentioned needing one.”

I was already walking towards the door, stopping to shove my feet into my shoes and grab my bag off the hook. I didn’t care that I looked like I had just been mauled by a bear, or that I was walking with an unnatural, almost unnoticeable limp. If I didn’t get home soon, they would lock me out of the apartment. And staying there any longer would’ve ensured that I never left.

Before I left, I glanced over my shoulder. Something told me that this was, indeed, the last night I would be working for Aaron Hotchner. And something else told me I was okay with it. Or, I would _be_ okay with it. He was still there, hair mused, tie almost undone. Hadn’t even taken off his shoes. He was staring at me with furrowed eyebrows, like he was confused.

I flashed a smile and opened the door. “Catch you later, Mr. Hotchner.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! follow me on tumblr: dontkissthewriter

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! follow me on tumblr: dontkissthewriter


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